Scout
by EnderGirl
Summary: All of the mercs have more or less tragic backstories...but Scout is so young. Too young to be caught up in this war. What actions could have led to him being picked up by Redmond? My take on Scout's brief childhood. ONE-SHOT!


**Hey guys! Just a short little author's note about this fic...I'm very proud of it, myself. I understand why some people may not like it for the same reason they didn't care for Flugel des Arztes...but I really hope you enjoy this. **

**As for news on The Mercs Take New York sequel...well, today I stared at a blank text document for fifteen minutes straight before I closed my laptop and laid on my bed to cry. It's coming, I promise. And it's bound to be twice as silly as the first...sheesh. You should see my outline. **

"Sit still, Billy! Honestly, you've got more energy than a…I don't know what!" his mother snapped at him. Billy thought about rolling his eyes but he knew if she saw him he'd get a smack on the arm.

"I'm just excited, Ma!" he protested, kicking his feet like there was no tomorrow. "You excited, Johnny?" he said to his brother who was sitting motionless beside him. Johnny was two years older than Billy but Billy was farther ahead than him in school, which didn't make a whole lot of sense to Billy. Johnny had glasses. Weren't people with glasses supposed to be smart? Johnny turned to look at him and then nodded slightly, still without saying a word.

Billy, Johnny, and the twins, Luke and Liam, were the only ones living at home anymore, and Luke and Liam were going to move out soon. Ryan had gone away to be an 'artist' whatever that meant. He had grown a beard and started smelling funny, and he always laughed even when no one told a joke. Sometimes Billy missed him, but every time he saw his thick, dark hair and brown eyes he was reminded that Ryan's father wasn't his father. Billy might not have been the brightest kid, but he was old enough to understand that none of the boys sans Luke and Liam had the same father.

He'd often gotten flack about it at school, people telling him his mother was a slut and other horrible names. A bony fist to the gut usually shut them up, and Billy ended up in the principal's office more times than not.

Then there was Andy, the next oldest. Andy was the strangest out of all of them, with pale skin and bright red hair. They all shared something similar, and it was usually the misaligned teeth or the signature angular face, or the lanky figure…but they were all different, too. Andy had gotten married to his one and only girlfriend and they moved way down south which Billy thought was odd because Andy burned so easily in the sun.

The next oldest was Seth who Billy barely remembered. He's pretty sure he's met him a few times and he sees him in all the pictures around the house, and he sends him a card on his birthday every year…but he kind of wishes he got to know Seth. Seth was a little more heavy set than the rest of them, looking the least like the bony family they were. He was married to a woman named Ruthie who smelled like cake and gave lots of hugs when she saw Billy at family reunions.

But the oldest of all the brothers, Charlie…that was who was coming today. Charlie was short and stocky, with a wider face than the rest of them but with Billy's short, brown hair. They shared the same icy blue eyes but their mother had blue eyes, so that wasn't a big shocker. It would be a wonder if they had the same father considering Charlie was fifteen years older than Billy. Charlie had gone off to be a marine, which apparently was something he couldn't do because his mother cried and prayed about Charlie a lot, wanting him home safe.

But he was coming home today.

The curly haired, green eyed twins were nowhere to be found, but tow-headed Johnny was sitting beside Billy staring expectantly at the door.

Billy thought if he waited any longer he was going to explode.

Then, the door opened.

"CHARLIE!" Billy burst out of his chair and jumped clear off the floor, latching onto his brother.

"Hey, hey, hey! How's my little Scout doing?" he held one hand on the boy's back while the other gripped his luggage. "Geez, you got big! How old are you now? Twenty? Twenty five?" Charlie teased him. Billy laughed and dropped away from him, bouncing from foot to foot.

"I'm fifteen, Chuck, you know dat!" Charlie gave him a soft punch on the arm before going to see his mother, wrapping her in a silent hug as she cried. Suddenly she pulled back and hit him on the chest.

"Ya still an idiot, you know? Had me worried sick…go unpack you big dumb stupid…" she was smiling through her tears and Charlie grabbed his bag as Billy blabbered on behind him. He stopped beside Johnny.

"Hey big man! How've you been?" he said very softly, making sure not to touch Johnny. Billy was impatiently bouncing again. He wasn't sure why people always talked so quietly to Johnny. Billy just acted normal around him. I mean, sure, Johnny was really quiet and he had to do special classes in school, but that didn't mean you had to whisper.

"Fine," Jonny answered flatly. Charlie nodded once and then went off to the spare bedroom to throw his bag down.

"How's school been treatin' ya?" Charlie said as he flopped on the bed like he hadn't laid on one in his whole life. Billy winced at this question. He should probably tell Charlie that Johnny was his only friend, that everyone thought he was annoying, that the kids on his baseball team only liked him because he could win them the game, how no one wanted to be his friend because his brother was a retard and his mother was a slut, how he spent most of his afternoons in detention because he clocked Richie upside his fat head because he kept picking on Johnny. He should probably tell Charlie these things because, well, Charlie had basically raised him. He wasn't just his big, strong, military brother; he was sort of his father in a way. But a fun father who played ball with him and got into trouble and didn't tell mom…things fathers were supposed to do.

Sometimes when Billy thought very hard he could almost see his father. He saw him often in dreams, heard that his voice was low and strange but he could never hear what he was saying. He must have worked in construction or something where he used his hands, because Billy always remembered those gloves…but Billy never saw his face. No matter how hard he tried, no matter the fragments of memories he pieced together in desperation…it was like his father didn't even have a face.

"Say?" Charlie prompted him again when Billy fell silent.

"Fine," Billy answered quickly. "Can we go now?" Charlie groaned as he smashed his face into the pillow.

"I think I need a nap first, kiddo," he said and yawned dramatically. "I'm an old man now, old men need their rest," Billy's heart sank.

"But you promised!" Billy whined and balled his shirt up in his fists.

"I know, I know. Let me see if my cleats still fit," he groaned again and sat up on the edge of the bed, beginning the process of taking off his thick soled military boots.

"Was the war hard?" Billy asked suddenly. "Because mom cried a lot. I mean, she wasn't sad, like, don't feel bad, I think she was just worried about you. And she started smokin' again," Billy said and instantly regretted it. He saw the way Charlie went really tense and paused momentarily in tying his shoes.

"Yeah?" he said, keeping his voice light.

"Yeah but it's nothin' to worry about. She's all good. Luke's still doing the paper route, and Liam has a new girlfriend. Johnny's doin' better in school so that's good. They started lettin' his class come and sit on the bleachers when we have outside P.E. And I'm totally doing awesome in baseball! I'm the fastest on the team!" Billy boasted. Charlie didn't respond for a moment then stood.

"Sorry, what? I wasn't listening," Billy let out a sigh and then drew in a breath to repeat himself before Charlie laughed. "I'm just messin' with ya, kiddo. I heard ya even if you didn't take a single breath the whole time ya talked. C'mon, let's hit the field," he ruffled Billy's hair and led the way out of the room.

"Wait, can Johnny come?" Billy paused. He knew Johnny liked going to the baseball field. He never said he liked it…well, he never said much of anything but Billy just knew. "You wanna go to the field?" Billy turned around and asked him. Johnny blinked slowly at him before he nodded and followed his brothers out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was a beautiful Saturday. The sun was shining and a cool breeze was lazily ruffling the trees. Billy was forcing himself to walk slower to match Charlie's leisurely pace, but every inch of his body was screaming at him to just GO, GO, GO!

He decided to run his mouth instead.

"Did you shoot guns? Were they big? I've always wanted to shoot a gun. Liam told me that I wasn't big enough to shoot a gun but I've grown! I'm almost as tall as you! Well, you're short to begin with, and who needs to be tall as long as I'm fast? Did I tell you that I jumped clean over Richie Marx's head? Yeah I was a little surprised myself. And then we had a Christmas party at school and I ate so many of Ms. Rochester's cookies that I threw up, Charlie! It was awesome. Ms. Rochester is a babe, lemme tell you. I, uh, don't have a girlfriend yet but that doesn't mean I'm not trying!" Billy paused momentarily to take a breath and Charlie interrupted him.

"What were you doin' jumping over Richie Marx?" he said, glancing back to make sure Johnny was still following him. "He wasn't pickin' on you, was he?"

"What? No! No, I've got tons of friends," Billy said quickly, his face going hot.

"That's not what I asked you," Charlie replied. Billy was quiet for a moment.

"He was pickin' on Johnny and I told him to piss off. He came at me but that's when I jumped clean over his head! And you know he's like a giant, I swear the guy's failed like three grades! He has a mustache, Chuck!"

"Richie came at you?" Charlie said, his voice unreadable.

"Yeah but he didn't hit me. I was too fast for him!"

"So you were standing up for Johnny," Charlie repeated.

"Well, yeah but it's whatever. It's not like a big deal or anything. He's my brother, it don't make me a sissy or nothin'. He can't take care of himself," Billy said defensively.

"I didn't call you a sissy. I think that's pretty cool of ya," Charlie looked down at Billy, grinning. Billy smiled back, and noted how Charlie's eyes crinkled up on the sides just like his did when he smiled. They walked in silence for a little while longer and Billy started to see the chain link fence that surrounded the ball field come into view. Any other time he would have grabbed Charlie's hand and ran full speed to get things started but he had a question rolling around in his stomach that he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask.

"Did you ever meet your dad?" Billy winced at his own question. Charlie was quiet for a long time and Billy glanced quickly up at him to see his jaw clench and him hold his glove tighter in his hands.

"Once," Charlie answered, his voice tight.

"Wouldn't it be somethin' if two of us had the same dad?" Billy prompted.

"That certainly would be somethin'," Charlie replied smoothly.

"I mean, you and I look a lot alike," Billy pressed, feeling the tension thicken. Charlie quickened his pace all of a sudden and gripped his glove so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Want some advice, Scout?" Charlie asked quietly. Billy nodded. He liked his nickname. Charlie told him that the Scouts on the battlefield were some of the bravest and fearless people in his whole unit. "Don't go lookin' for your father. Mind was a scumbag. A filthy…" Charlie broke off here to unlatch the gate to the dugouts. Billy hadn't even realized they had arrived. "Just don't go lookin' for your dad. He don't want you and you don't need him. Ya got me now and I'm pretty great, right?" Charlie laughed.

Billy forced a smile to his face. "Yeah," he agreed quietly.

"Now let's play some catch,"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Billy had fought his mother all morning about going to school.

"Charlie'll be heah when you get back! Now go you little monster, tha bus is heah!" she pointed with a lipsticked scowl and a manicured nail to the door.

"C'mon, Johnny," Billy growled and took his brother by the hand, stomping out of their apartment to catch the bus. Billy would have preferred to walk everyday but Johnny didn't like being around the people on the streets and if he had a breakdown…there would be hell to pay from his mother.

The bus quieted down when Billy and Johnny stepped on. The laughter and yelling broke into whispers and snickers. Billy just rolled his eyes and got Johnny sat down and settled. Johnny's breath suddenly hitched in his throat and he grabbed Billy and pulled him down so he could whisper in his ear.

"I don't want to be here," he said, his fingers tightening around Billy's wrist. He winced at Johnny's strength .

"Yeah, I know. Neither do I," Billy reassured him, fixing his glasses that had slipped down his nose. Johnny sat still while Billy gave him a once over, fixing his collar and his hair then gave him his baseball to occupy him on the ride.

"Hey, _street rats_!" Billy's heart sank and he felt Johnny go rigid beside of him.

Richie Marx.

As fat as he was tall, Richie was an upperclassman with a buzzcut, a permanent split lip, and an unexplained vendetta against Billy and his family. He leaned over the seat and Billy wrinkled his nose at his beef jerky breath.

"Daddy drop you off at the bus stop? Or should I say, _which_ daddy?" he knelt down beside the seat and Billy did his best to ignore him. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, retard." He sneered at Johnny who was doing his best to sink into the seat but it was quite impossible with his large frame. Johnny was like a big German Shepard that thought it was still a little puppy. A really stupid German Shepard.

"Screw off, Richie," Billy growled, still avoiding eye contact as he flipped him off.

"Do that again and I'll break that finger," he warned. Without hesitation Billy flipped him off again. Sometimes Richie was a whole lot of bark with no bite, but today was apparently not the case when Billy felt his entire body jerked forward so fast his neck snapped back, disorienting him. Billy felt a swell of panic rise in him. He was in a confined metal tube of death; there was nowhere to run. "You got a lot of nerve, kid. In ya holey hand-me-downs and ya busted teeth…who do you think you are?" Richie shook him again and Billy thought he might vomit as his teeth clacked together from the force of it.

"I'm Billy friggin' Charleston," he spat, snorting briefly before hocking a decent sized loogie right in Richie's eye.

Even as Billy felt his whole body drop to the ground, the force of it resonating through his bones, he felt a grin split his face and pride swell through him as Richie's haymaker connected with the side of his head and everything went strangely silent for a while.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You got in a FIGHT?" Charlie was pacing the room while Billy sat with his head lowered, a bag of ice over his eye. He should probably feel bad…but he couldn't stop smiling. "This isn't _funny_, Bill!" Charlie snapped when he saw him smiling again. His happiness was slowly leaking out of him, replaced by misplaced anger.

"What do you care? You don't like Richie Marx either!" Billy said hotly.

"Yeah but that doesn't mean I'm pickin' fights with him!"

"He started it!" Billy felt his voice raising and the anger swelling inside of him.

"He could have seriously hurt you, Bill! A black eye is the least of your worries when dealin' with that oaf! You gotta be more careful, Bill," Charlie's voice softened but it only made Billy angrier.

"Why? Why do I have to be careful? I can take care of myself, Charlie! I been doin it for fifteen years!" he was full blown yelling now and Charlie scowled.

"Ma did the best she could, allright? And you had me and you had your father for a little bit, at least! You've gotta stay here to take care of Johnny!"

"I don't wanna spend my whole life lookin' after Johnny!" Billy argued. "And besides, why do you even care so much? You're not my dad!" as soon as the words left Billy's mouth he regretted them. Charlie's face became stony. When he spoke again his voice was so quiet Billy could barely hear him.

"No. I'm not ya father. Our father didn't want us, Bill. He didn't want me when he knocked up Ma thirty yeahs ago when she was still in highschool and he didn't want you when he came crawlin' back to her fifteen years ago. We were _mistakes_, Billy. Can't you get that through your thick head?"

"I'm not… not a mistake. You're wrong! He had to have wanted me! You can't just have a kid and not want it, not love it, not wanna keep it! It's not right! It-it's STUPID!" Billy felt hot tears behind his eyes and Charlie went in for a hug but Billy pushed him off.

"Bill?" Charlie said warily.

"If I ever find him I swear to god I'm gonna kill him," Billy said softly. Charlie made no move to correct him.

"Why don't you take Johnny to the field? Go hit some balls, clear ya head, go for a run…it's gonna be okay, Scout. You've got ya whole life ahead of ya. You can't spend the rest of it being mad at a man no one even knows." Billy nodded and went out of the room to go find Johnny.

"Johnny?" he called. He checked in their room but he wasn't there. Sometimes he liked to sit at the kitchen table and draw, but he wasn't there either. Billy started to panic. Charlie had had to come and get him early from school, but Liam said bring Johnny home. What if he'd forgotten? What if they left him at the school? What if he was lost in downtown Boston? What if he was laying somewhere hurt or in jail or beaten because he can't take care of himself? Billy grabbed him jacket and prepared to bolt out the door but then he heard muffled crying.

How could he have been so stupid? Of course Johnny was in the pantry. That's where he hid if he'd had a bad day. He must've been scared at school without Billy there. Billy opened the door slowly so he wouldn't scare him.

"Go away," Johnny said, hiccupping from his crying. Billy's heart broke.

"Look, Johnny, I'm so sorry I left you at school today. I had to go home because I got suspended. But it's okay, Richie got suspended too and for longer so he won't bother us for a while. Wanna see my black eye? It's pretty freakin' cool and kinda gross," Billy prompted, keeping his voice light.

"I don't want you to be mad at me," Johnny said. Billy furrowed his sparse eyebrows in confusion.

"Mad at you? For bein' scared? Why would I be mad? Here, come on out and let's clean ya up. I couldn't ever be mad at you," he sprinted over to the sink to wet a washcloth to start cleaning up Johnny's face.

"W-wasn't scared…" Johnny said, sobs racking his broad shoulders. "Please don't be mad," he pleaded. Billy's blood suddenly ran cold for an unexplainable reason.

"Johnny…what happened? Come on out, I'm not going to be mad at you, I promise," Billy said slowly and quietly so he wouldn't scare him off. He reluctantly crawled out of the pantry on his hands and knees and then sat up on his haunches and pulled his shirt up to reveal his stomach and chest.

Along his pale skin were various stages of bruising in large circular patterns. They were all obviously fresh, probably a few hours old. Purples, greens, browns, and various hues of red were painted on his skin in some sort of beautifully macabre work of art.

"You're mad," Johnny whimpered, dropping his shirt again.

"Who did this to you?" Billy demanded after the initial shock had passed.

"Richie," Johnny said so quietly Billy nearly had to read his lips.

The vivid image of Johnny curled up in a ball while Richie stood over him kicking and laughing in his face assaulted Billy's mind.

Something inside of him…snapped.

He felt it.

It was the strangest thing.

It was like anger didn't exist anymore. He wasn't furious, he wasn't outraged, he wasn't livid…

It was like this blinding light had exploded in front of his face and turned everything into a strange red haze. Billy felt adrenaline shoot through his veins and he slowly, mechanically put on his jacket and _walked_ out the door.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Where was that damn kid.

Charlie had already called the police station and his mother who couldn't get off work. Johnny was hysterical saying that it was his entire fault. Charlie had put the twins in charge of him while he went to find his youngest brother.

Stupid, stupid, kid.

It was only four in the afternoon but the sky was darkening with what looked like the storm of the century. The wind was stirring up dust and leaves and chilled Charlie to the bones as he stormed out to find Billy. He could hear thunder rolling in the distance. If he was caught out here in the rain looking for his idiot brother he was going to be _seriously_ pissed.

There was only one logical place he could be, really.

As the thunder rolled again, ever persistent, Charlie picked up the pace and began to run.

What he wouldn't give to be as fast as Bill right now.

"Bill!" he called as he reached the field. Relief was like a punch to the gut when he saw him standing there by the dugouts. He saw that the gate was open but paid no attention to Billy's carelessness as he pushed his way in. "You are in SO much trouble! Do you know how worried we were?" Charlie's voice was rising with each step he took, and also because he wind had picked up again.

But Billy still just stood there. He had his bat in his hand and it looked like something was on the ground in front of him. It looked like the end of his bat was wet, too…had it been raining earlier as well?

"YO CHUCKLEHEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME?" Charlie roared as Billy continued to ignore him. He was about to come over there and smack some sense into him. I mean really, what was his problem lately?

Charlie froze in his tracks when he got a clearer view of what was laying on the ground.

He saw two legs splayed out on the ground attached to a quite heavyset person, but Billy was obscuring the rest of his view.

"B-Bill?" Charlie ventured.

He saw that his bat wasn't wet with water, it was steadily dripping a thick liquid, the aluminum slick with it.

Charlie crept forward until he confirmed his suspicions. There, lying in the dust was a very still, very pale Richie Marx. He wouldn't have known unless it was for Richie's baseball jersey that he was wearing seeing as his skull was caved in, mutilating his face.

Charlie had seen some messed up stuff. He'd been in war, after all.

But as he saw his fifteen year old brother standing over the body of another boy he'd just beaten to death with a baseball bat…he might pass out.

"Bill!" Charlie said frantically, grabbing him by the shoulders. Billy's eyes looked dead and he was unresponsive as Charlie shook him. "Billy, what did you do?" he whimpered.

Suddenly Billy blinked like he realized Charlie was there for the first time and his face slowly twisted into absolute terror.

He began to scream.

"I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" he wailed, struggling against Charlie's iron grip. "I swear I didn't mean it- Charlie PLEASE! He hurt Johnny! He hurt Johnny so bad and I wanted to m-make him hurt! I didn't mean to kill him Charlie PLEASE!" Billy was hysterical, sobbing and screaming and thrashing around.

What was he supposed to do? Turn him in?

Charlie took a deep breath.

"You gotta run." He said simply.

"W-what?" Billy looked stunned.

"You've gotta run, Billy. It's as simple as that. Run and never look back," as Charlie spoke he let go of Billy and reached into his shirt to pull out his army issued dogtags. He slipped them off his own neck and pressed them in Billy's limp hand.

"Run? B-but what about Ma? And Johnny? And R-Richie?" Billy looked like he might vomit. Charlie licked his thumb and began wiping streaks of Richie's blood off Billy's pale face.

"It's too late for all that, now. Just run, Billy, and don't stop. Never stop running."

Billy slipped the dogtags around his neck, gave a curt nod, and turned, sprinting away from his brother.

He was so small…so fragile. As his tiny figure disappeared over the horizon, his skinny legs pumping furiously behind him to get him where he was headed…the rain finally broke loose in a torrential downpour accompanied with an oddly mellifluous and somewhat poetic clap of thunder, as if the earth itself was mourning the loss of the boy lying lifelessly on the ground. The furious jangling of his dogtags and the slapping of his cleats on the asphalt was swallowed up by the sobbing of the sky and his baseball cap went out of sight as Billy ran.

Billy ran, and he never looked back.


End file.
